The Ghosts of Christmas Past
by GeneHuntress
Summary: Christmas in the '80s has never been easy for Alex Drake, but this year is shaping up to be worse than most. Too much vodka and a loose tongue can only lead to regrets the morning after, surely? Short festive Galex tale, rated T for now but I suspect that won't last ...
1. Chapter 1

...

Well, here we are again, fellow Ashes fans. It is a sort of festive tradition now, I spose! I wasn't sure whether I'd actually get this posted in time for Christmas – yet another bout of ill-health got in the way - but here's the first instalment at least.

Without further ado …

...

.

 **The Ghosts of Christmas Past**

 **.**

 **Chapter 1**

 **.**

 _The doctors have told us that there's no hope, but I'm not giving up on you, Mum. I know you're still in there somewhere. Please come back to us …_

Alex had become somewhat inured to the beeping of machines and the low level murmur of hospital staff which sometimes invaded her mind, but Molly's tear-strained voice had caught her completely off-guard. She'd thought the pain couldn't get any worse, but it turned out she'd been wrong. Tears pricked her eyes, and she lifted the glass to her lips with trembling hands, well aware that drinking on an empty stomach wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but not finding it within herself to care.

She was conscious of the team casting concerned glances her way, but so far they'd given her a wide berth and she couldn't really blame them. Christmas was only a few short days away, it was Friday evening and they just wanted to relax and have a drink or several after a demanding week. Which is exactly what she would have had planned up until a couple of hours ago. Now she just wanted to go to bed and never wake up again.

…

At that precise moment, Gene swept through door, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together, long coat billowing out behind him as he made a beeline for the bar.

"Bloody brass monkeys out there tonight. Luigi, a swift pint and a whiskey chaser, if yer'd be so kind."

"Before yer get stuck in, we've got a bit of a problem, Guv."

Ray, who was about to order another round, nodded towards Alex slumped over a table in the far corner.

"She's already on 'er fourth double vodka. Pissed as the proverbial rat."

Gene followed his line of vision and huffed out a long breath, his plans for a relaxing evening dissolving before his very eyes.

"Hold the pint, Luigi. And rustle up a strong black coffee, would yer?"

He turned to back to Ray.

"Did you even try to stop 'er?"

"What, and risk a punch in the gob?"

Gene pouted, massaging his jaw at the memory. He had to admit, she did have a mean right hook.

Downing his whiskey in one, he reluctantly abandoned the glass and studied Alex from a safe distance. What the hell had happened to cause this? He'd glanced up earlier to find her looking pale and distracted, but she'd left CID before he had a chance to enquire further. Squaring his shoulders, he headed in her direction, admittedly with some trepidation.

"Lady Bols. You appear ter be drunk in charge of a handbag yet again."

Tipping her head back, she gazed up at him, bleary-eyed.

"Are you in possession of alcohol?"

"Nope."

"Well, go away, then."

She was already slurring her words, which was never a good sign. Ignoring the rebuff, he took a seat next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him, feigning a nonchalance he definitely didn't feel.

"I'm all ears. Get it off yer chest, woman."

"Just having a quiet drink, Guv. Or at least I was …"

She waggled her fingers around his title, but he didn't rise to the bait.

"Double vodkas? Sounds more like drownin' yer sorrows ter me."

Her shoulders sagged, and she breathed a ragged sigh.

"Ghosts of Christmas Past returned to haunt me, that's all."

She reached for her glass but Gene was quicker, knocking back the remaining contents and hissing in satisfaction as the liquor burned its way down his throat.

"And spirits of Christmas Present?"

Her face was a picture of indignation, but before she could reply Luigi approached, tentatively sliding a steaming cup onto the table in front of her.

"Now its time fer the coffee of Christmas Future."

Gene nodded his thanks and the little man backed away, brows knitted in concern.

"Don't want coffee. Want more vodka."

Her expression was mutinous, but he just shrugged and pushed the cup closer.

"Drink it, Bols. Yer'll thank me in the mornin'."

"Sod the morning. I intend to go to bed and not get up until after New Year."

Despite her belligerence, she reached for the coffee and took a sip, much to his relief.

"No can do, DI Drake. Still scum to catch and yer presence is required, by me."

"It's Christmas, Gene. Even criminals have stockings to open and turkey to digest."

He snorted derisively.

"This is London, not Little 'ouse on the Prairie. Just another day ter them, only with more tinsel."

He squinted at Luigi's misguided attempts to make the place look suitably festive.

"I 'ate tinsel. An' bloody streamers. A bloke shouldn't 'ave to don sunglasses to enjoy a quiet drink."

"Molly used to love helping me put up the decorations…"

The catch in her voice was enough to make him turn his head, just in time to see a solitary tear roll down her cheek. His chest tightened uncomfortably. The sight of an overwrought female would usually send him running in the opposite direction before anyone could say "Fire up the Quattro", but this wasn't just any woman; this was Alex Drake. Instinctively, he reached out and then hesitated, his hand hovering in midair until he settled for a quick squeeze of her shoulder.

"Time we got you 'ome, Lady Bols."

"Don't want to be alone tonight, Gene. Will you stay with me?"

She looked so lost he hadn't the heart to deny her. Plus he knew she'd have forgotten any promise he'd given by the time they made it upstairs to the flat.

"Well, if you insist."

He stood, proffering a hand, but she waved it away.

"I can manage, thank you."

Planting both palms flat on the table, she succeeded in getting to her feet before listing dangerously to starboard. She would have lost her balance if he hadn't caught her in time.

"You were sayin'?"

She clutched at his lapels for support, all the fight going out of her as he wrapped one arm around her waist and steered her towards the exit. Luigi shook his head in despair, mumbling to himself about beautiful signorinas and the dangers of the demon drink.

...

Outside, it was bitterly cold. Snow was falling from a leaden sky and the gusty wind drove a flurry of fat flakes into Gene's face where they clung to his lashes and stung his eyes. He blinked them away, shivering inside his greatcoat and cursing under his breath. Alex gasped in surprise and delight, her troubles temporarily forgotten.

"Oh, isn't pretty? We might actually get a white Christmas this year!"

"Sorry ter disappoint you, but apparently there's a hail storm on the way."

The stairs up to the flat were treacherous, and with Alex in such an inebriated condition it was slow going. When her feet went from under her for the third time, he had little choice but to pull her tight against his side where she snuggled contentedly into his neck.

"Always smell so nice, Gene …."

 _Always? She was in the habit of sniffing him on a regular basis, then?_

"Man stink, Bols. Renders me irresistible ter the opposite sex."

"Mmmm. Consider my gusset suitably moistened."

Clenching his jaw, he attempted to manoeuvre her up another step. The contents of her underwear was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of right now.

"Gene?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why have you never tried to kiss me?"

"Don't think this is either the time or the place, do you?"

She stopped dead, almost toppling them both backwards down the stairs.

"Just so you know, I wouldn't mind. In fact I think I'd really, really like it …"

He swore under his breath. It was going to be a long night.

...

Finally, much to his relief, they were standing outside her flat.

"Key please, Bols. Preferably before we both freeze to death."

"Um … back pocket of my jeans, I think."

She shifted to face him, entwining her arms around his neck and moulding her body to his.

"Probably safer if you get it, Guv. I might drop it by mistake."

His long neglected libido began to stir despite the temperature, and he raised his eyes heavenwards.

 _Oh, Lord. If this is a test …_

"Left or right?"

"Can't remember. It's definitely one or the other, though."

"Really helpful, Madam Fruitcake."

Gritting his teeth, he slid his fingers inside one pocket and began to explore.

 _Firm with a peachy ripeness …_

No sign of a key. Groaning inwardly, he changed hands and repeated the exercise. Still nothing.

"You sure?"

"Hmmm. Actually, it could be in my jacket. Sorry."

Somehow, he suspected she wasn't remotely apologetic.

"God give me strength, woman!"

With a bit of effort he finally succeeded in getting the door open. He backed her into the hallway before kicking it firmly shut behind him. Much to his relief, the flat was blissfully warm.

"Right, let's get you onto the couch."

After a rather undignified tussle, he managed to free himself from her embrace and settle her back against the cushions.

"Right, stay there while I go and put the kettle on."

She grimaced.

"No more coffee, Guv. Not drunk any more. Let's have some wine instead."

He raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"As sober as a newt, clearly. Water it is, then."

Returning with a glass, he placed it in front of her and took a seat.

"Drink."

She eyed it dubiously, wrinkled her nose and then turned her attention back to him.

"Doesn't look like wine to me."

Her eyes were glazed, her make-up smudged, and still she managed to look stunning. He shook his head sadly.

"What am I goin' ter do with you, woman?"

She gave him a tipsy smile, leaning in close.

"You could always take me to bed and have your wicked way with me."

Her gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered there.

"I want you, Gene."

Laying a hand on his thigh, she squeezed gently. Caught off-guard, he froze for a moment, allowing her fingers to creep further north. Sergeant Rock, spying a rare opportunity and always open to persuasion, immediately leapt to attention.

 _Stand down, soldier. Nothing to see here._

Cursing inwardly, Gene removed the offending hand and returned it to her lap

"We both know that's just the vodka talkin', don't we? Now, drink yer water."

She shook her head in denial.

"Always wanted you, just working together makes it complicated."

Gene was stunned. Could it be true? _In vino veritas_ and all that. Granted, it wasn't the first time she'd come on to him, but it was only ever under the influence. He didn't know what to think and for now avoidance seemed the best approach, especially as she was unlikely to remember much in the morning.

"Lady Bols, you're tired and emotional, and yer need to get some kip."

She sighed, toying with the glass.

"You know, underneath that tough exterior you're actually quite a nice man, Gene Hunt."

 _You have no idea, sweetheart._

"Yeah, well, don't go spreading it around."

"I know. Otherwise you'll have to stamp on my pretty little head."

She smirked and then fell serious again.

"It's true, though. Most blokes would've had me on my back with my legs in the air by now, but not you. You're a gentleman."

Lurid visions flashed through his overactive brain, and he pushed them firmly away.

"And you're still not drinkin'."

She huffed, picking up the glass and taking several gulps.

"Bully. Are you this demanding in the bedroom too?"

He opted for evasion again.

"Let's see, shall we? Be a good girl and I might tuck you in and read you a bedtime story."

Getting to his feet, he held out a hand and this time she didn't refuse, swaying on her feet as she leaned into him.

"I'm so tired, Gene."

"I know, Bols. You and me both …"

.

...

.

Well, at least they're heading in generally the right direction! Lol. Still working on the last chapter, but hopefully it'll be with you before the New Year.

Meanwhile, a very Merry Christmas – and God bless us, one and all!

.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, so much for having the final chapter up before New Year, huh? Chinese New Year, maybe! Many apologies, everyone. In my defence, January turned out to be a write off rather than a write fest, unfortunately. Meh. Next year, I'm definitely having a flu jab!

Anyway, as a result of the long delay, it made sense to split the 'final' chapter – especially as it was shaping up to be a decent length. Without further ado …

….

 **Chapter 2**

.

Gene managed to get Alex seated on the bed, slipping her boots off before throwing back the duvet.

"In yer get, Bolly Kecks."

She blinked up at him.

"Can't possibly sleep in these jeans. Too tight."

 _Lord, have some mercy._ He scratched his head.

"Right, here's wot we'll do. I'll close me eyes and you lean on me while yer try to undo 'em. OK?"

After a bit of unsteady manoeuvring she finally managed to get them down around her knees, falling back on the bed while he dragged them over her feet with a grunt of relief.

"The Jean Genie!"

She giggled at her own joke while Gene gritted his teeth and resisted the temptation to peek. One glimpse of those amazing pins of hers and his fragile control would almost certainly dissolve.

"Into bed with yer, Madam Fruitcake. And don't give up the day job."

He heard the rustle of bedclothes and tentatively opened one eye, gratified to find her in the centre of the matress with the duvet pulled up around her waist.

"Don't leave me, Guv. Please."

She patted the empty space next to her, looking so lost and vulnerable that he hadn't the heart to refuse. Resigned to his fate, he shed his jacket and tie, laying them on the back of a chair before toeing his boots off. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and plumped up a pillow before stretching out on the bed next to her, glad of the thick duvet separating them.

"Gene?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I'm dying …"

He blew out a long breath. She didn't know it, but she'd probably taken several years off his own life since that first fateful meeting.

"We all are, luv. It's just a question of when."

Reluctantly he extended one arm in invitation and she shifted closer, laying her head on his shoulder. Reaching out with the other he flicked off the bedside light, plunging the room into sudden darkness.

"Gene?"

"Wot now?"

"Thanks for looking after me."

A wave of protectiveness washed over him.

"Yer welcome, Lady Bols. Now go ter sleep."

As he lay there, awaiting the change on her breathing, he realised he was exhausted too. The distinctive aroma of her perfume filled his nostrils – mysterious, exotic, enticing – and he found his eyelids drooping. What harm could a quick nap do? Twenty minutes, half an hour tops. He'd still have plenty of time to get downstairs and enjoy that bottle of red he'd promised himself earlier. Giving up the fight, he closed his eyes and relaxed back against the pillow. Seconds later, he was out for the count.

... _  
_

Alex surfaced from a deep and dreamless sleep into the pale light of a grey midwinter dawn. At first she was startled to find she had company, but then she recognised his familiar reassuring scent. _Gene!_ Had she asked him to stay? She wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed he hadn't wanted to leave her alone in her inebriated state. Her heart gave a peculiar little lurch.

Outside, the predicted storm had arrived with a vengeance: a howling gale buffeted the building, hurling fists full of icy hail against the window like a petulant child. Alex shivered, instinctively shifting closer to Gene while taking care not to disturb his peaceful slumber. God knows, he deserved it after the week they'd had. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or disappointed to find him almost fully clothed and lying on top of the duvet. Trust the Guv to behave like such a gentleman. Something about that phrase niggled at her, but she wasn't entirely sure why. What exactly had happened the previous night? She had some vague recollection of vodka – a lot of vodka – which was odd. It wasn't her usual tipple, after all.

 _Mum … please come back to us …_

The memory reared its ugly head without warning.

 _Molly. The vision._

Her throat constricted and tears sprang to her eyes as the truth finally hit her: she wasn't ever going back. Somewhere beneath her ribcage, a dull ache replaced the agony of the previous evening, and she exhaled a shaky breath. The pain would always be there, but she couldn't continue living in denial any more: she was stuck with this new reality, and somehow she had to make the best of it.

Blinking away the tears, she closed her eyes and fell into a semi-doze. To her surprise, her troubled mind finally began to calm: acceptance brought with it some kind of inner peace at least, it seemed. And things weren't all bad in her present existence. She enjoyed the challenges of her job, she'd made some good friends – and she had Gene. For all his faults, she'd come to think of him as one of the best men she'd ever known. He was her rock, her one constant in this new reality, and the thought of being without him was almost unbearable.

 _If I had managed to get back to Molly, I'd have lost Gene in the process._

Her eyes flew open as the enormity of the realisation hit her: she couldn't imagine a life without him in it now. He frustrated her to hell at times, but he also made her feel safe, protected, secure. _And horny. Very horny._ She permitted herself the ghost of a smile. So she had thing for rugged masculinity? Broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes and a sexy as hell pout apparently ticked all her boxes. So what? It wasn't like she was planning to jump into bed with him, was it? Present circumstances notwithstanding, of course. And there was a duvet separating them, so it didn't really count.

Relaxing back against the pillow, she let her mind wander. Memories of the previous evening began to swim to the surface. She vaguely recalled Gene helping her up the icy stairs and the relief of stumbling into a warm flat.

 _Want you, Gene. Always wanted you …_

Her eyes flew open and her heart began to pound in her ears.

 _Oh. My. God._

Had she actually said those words out loud? While he was in the same room? She cursed inwardly, forcing herself to draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, repeating the exercise until she started to feel calmer. What she needed now was a plan, preferably before Gene woke up.

 _Think, Alex, think._

Focusing her mind, she attempted to apply logic to the situation, weighing up her options. In the end, it seemed she only had two choices.

The first was denial. Pretend she had no memory of anything after leaving Luigi's. That way they could continue on as if nothing had happened. Problem solved. Only it wasn't, was it? Even if Gene believed her, which was not something she could take for granted given the fact she'd had a strong coffee and a healthy dose of fresh air by that point – even then, HE would still know. That knowledge would become the big fat elephant in the room, affecting both their working and personal relationships and slowly, inevitably driving a wedge between them. Denial was the coward's way out and she was no coward.

The other choice would require all the courage she could muster - and complete honesty. Taking the bull by the horns, or indeed the Manc lion by the tail, and admitting the truth. Fortune favours the brave and all that. After all, she did want him, didn't she? Lurid fantasies plagued her by day, and erotic dreams filled her nights: Gene, on top of her, moving deep inside her … bending her over his desk and taking her roughly from behind … groaning in pleasure while she straddled him on the backseat of the Quattro …

The sudden rush of arousal came as no surprise. In her idle moments, she'd often found herself wondering what kind of lover he'd be. He was clearly a sensual being beneath that gruff exterior: just the sight of him caressing a whisky glass, cradling it between those long elegant fingers as his tongue flicked out to gather the last few drops from that full lower lip, was enough to make her mouth go dry. The question was, did she have to nerve to act on her innermost desires? Because the result of taking action could only go one of two ways – a triumphant seduction or a devastating rejection. And if she did work up the courage, she would have to be willing to make all the moves: Gene would need some serious convincing that not only was she no longer under the influence, but that she wanted more than just a one night stand. So much more.

It was all or nothing. In or out, so to speak. Given that she had so much to lose, could she really take that risk?

.

…..

.

I know, I know. I'm keeping you all waiting again. I'll try not to leave it several weeks before the final instalment this time, though!

If you're still enjoying, please take a few moments to leave me a quick review – must admit, I've been feeling pretty low and it would really cheer me up to know my humble efforts are still appreciated. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Well, here it is at long last. The festivities may be long over and done with for most of us, but Bolly-Kecks seems to have other ideas!

Many thanks to those who have been kind enough to leave reviews, and apologies again for keeping you waiting so long for the conclusion. In my defence, ongoing health issues have made writing difficult in recent months, but playing with these two is always fun.

Without further ado …

…

.

 **Chapter 3**

 **.**

Alex lay on her back, gnawing at her bottom lip and staring at the ceiling. She'd finally made her decision, the only possible one given the circumstances, but that didn't make it any easier. Her stomach clenched and her mouth went dry when she considered the enormity of the step she was about to take. What if he turned her down? How would they possibly be able to carry on, as colleagues and friends? She'd have no choice but to put in for a transfer, and that was the last thing she wanted. Failure wasn't an option, and that was all there was to it.

Next to her, Gene twitched and the rhythm of his breathing altered. Nerves stretched taut, she waited as he cleared his throat, rolled over and slowly levered himself into a sitting position, glancing around the room in an attempt to reorient himself. His shoulders slumped and he ran a hand haphazardly through his hair before staggering to his feet with a grunt. Surely he wasn't about to leave without a word?

"Gene?"

Her voice rose in panic, and she cursed inwardly. _Desperation. Really classy, Alex.  
_  
"Call of nature, Bols. Go back ter sleep."

Yawning, he shuffled off in the direction of the bathroom, and she released the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. Throwing back the duvet, she turned onto her side and waited.

...

He stood stock still in the middle of the room and stared at her, clearly befuddled both by sleep and the situation.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the bed?"

She kept her tone light, hoping he wouldn't read too much into the gesture. Dropping his chin to his chest, he swayed back on his heels and blew out a long breath: even though she couldn't make out his expression, his indecision was palpable, and she metaphorically crossed her fingers.

"Fine. No funny business, tho."

"Scout's honour, Guv."

As he turned his back and began to divest himself of his trousers, she sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenwards. The mattress dipped as he took his place next to her, tugging the duvet up around his midriff and settling back against the pillow.

For a while they lay there, close but not touching, while she worked up the courage to put the next stage of her plan into action. Tentatively, she slid her foot in his direction until it brushed against his hair roughened leg. He flinched but said nothing, clearly assuming the contact had been accidental. Hardly daring to breathe, she trailed her toes teasingly down the length of his calf and back up again: there was no way he could interpret that as anything but a deliberate gesture. He cleared his throat.

"What are yer doin', Alex?"

His voice was gruff, but he didn't pull away. Time to press her advantage.

"Hmmm. Not entirely sure, but I think it might come under the heading of 'funny business'."

Daringly, she slid her leg in between his and raised herself up onto one elbow so she could look down into his face.

"I was never a boy scout, sadly."

He watched her, his silver-grey eyes wary, trademark pout firmly in place. A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying his sense of unease. Ignoring the hammering of her heart, she walked her fingers slowly up his chest.

"I've remembered what I said last night. I know I'd had a lot to drink, but it was the truth: I do want you, Gene." She forced herself to hold his gaze. "And just so we're clear, I'm stone cold sober now."

She waited a beat, just long enough for him to absorb her words, then dipped her head and pressed her lips to his.

...

Her initial efforts to coax a response proved unsuccessful: his mouth remained set in a firm line, and she could feel the tension vibrating through his body. Only one thing for it: she needed to up the ante, preferably before her confidence dwindled away entirely. Lying half on top of him, her breasts crushed against his chest, she ran her tongue slowly, teasingly along the seam of his lips. Still nothing, so she repeated the gesture. This time she was rewarded with a low rumbling growl and then, to her immense relief, his resistance finally crumbled. With a hum of approval, she took advantage, exploring his mouth: tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence as he began to respond, his tongue entwining with hers in a sensual dance.

She was intoxicated by the thrill of it: he tasted of sin, and single malt and something uniquely, irresistibly him. Kissing Gene Hunt felt surprisingly natural and utterly right: barely restrained passion simmered just beneath the surface as their mouths melded together; an erotic promise of so much more to come. One arm snaked around her waist, clasping her tightly against him, while his free hand gently cupped the back of her head. On and on they went, snogging like a couple of randy teenagers, until her toes were curling and the blood began to sizzle in her veins. When they finally broke apart, she was dizzy with desire and the lack of oxygen, but he gave her little time to catch her breath.

A split second later, she found herself flat on her back with 15 stones of horny DCI on top of her. Pinning her hands above her head, he settled between her thighs, his gaze locking on to hers. The squeak of protest died on her lips as she quailed under the intense scrutiny: his brilliant blue eyes blazed hot enough to incinerate the sheets. Seemed she'd been playing with fire, and now she was about to get well and truly burned.

"Last chance ter change your mind."

His voice was thick with lust, and yet still he insisted on playing the gentleman. She could feel the hard ridge of his trapped erection pressing against her belly and her whole body began to tremble with anticipation. Change her mind? _No. Bloody. Way._ Biting her lip, she shook her head slowly, deliberately, never breaking eye contact, but he wasn't about to let her off that easily.

"Need ter hear the words, Alex."

God, she adored the sound of her name on his lips.

"Make love to me, Gene. And don't hold back."

His shoulders were rigid with tension but still he stared down into her face, as if seeking final confirmation in her eyes. Undaunted, she held his gaze without flinching, and was finally rewarded with a barely perceptible nod. Without warning, his mouth slammed down on hers and this time the kiss was demanding, possessive, almost brutal in its intensity. Head spinning, she surrendered willingly to the passionate assault, squirming restlessly against him.

When they finally came up for air, he released her hands and groped for the front of her blouse. Frantically they undressed one another, discarded clothing forming an ever growing pile on the floor until they were both wonderfully, gloriously naked. His mouth was everywhere then: nipping at her throat; trailing hot kisses along her collarbone; sucking enthusiastically on a straining nipple, each perfect graze of his teeth sparking pulses of wicked heat low in her belly. When his coaxing fingers slid between her thighs, relentlessly stroking and teasing, she could wait no longer.

"Please, Gene. Please!"

She knew she sounded desperate, wanton, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Nothing mattered but the nagging ache deep inside, and the wild uncontrollable urge to be taken, filled, possessed.

He took pity on her at last, replacing his fingers with his hard length. As he began to ease his way inside, she gasped out a startled breath. Immediately, he froze.

"Am I hurtin' you?"

"No. God, no. Don't stop!"

Relief flitted across his face, and she caught a flash of pride in the depths of his eyes. With good cause, it seemed. Pete hadn't been particularly well endowed and she'd had no idea what she was missing until now. _Bigger in all departments indeed.  
_  
Reassured, he continued to push forward, stretching her, filling her utterly and completely. By the time he was fully immersed, she was already teetering on the edge of wondrous oblivion. He paused, his fiery gaze fixed on hers, and suddenly there was nowhere to hide. She felt raw, exposed, vulnerable.

"Gene …"

Her voice trembled, and his expression softened.

"I know."

He began to move in earnest then, withdrawing slowly and advancing hard and fast, and she gripped his biceps as each powerful thrust drove her relentlessly onwards. Wanton noises of encouragement fell from her lips as she moulded her hips to his, taking everything he had to give. Finally, inevitably, she shattered beneath him, overwhelmed by a climax so powerful it shook her to the very core. Her body was still shuddering through the aftershocks when he gave up the fight, exploding deep inside her with a groan of pure pleasure.

...

Gene's arms gave way and he collapsed onto his elbows, burying his face in her neck, his chest heaving as he battled to suck oxygen into his lungs. Alex stroked her fingers through his silky mane, her head spinning, the blood pounding in her ears. Her limbs felt heavy, her body sated, her scattered thoughts slowly coalescing as she floated somewhere above her body in a haze of bliss. Talk about the earth moving: she was amazed the whole building hadn't collapsed into rubble around them. _Best. Sex. Ever.  
_  
After a long while, the man responsible grunted and rolled onto his back, taking her along with him. She snuggled into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh.

"Bloody hell!"

There was something approaching awe in his gruff tone. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss against his shoulder.

"Mmmm. Not bad for a first attempt, Guv."

 _Not bad for any attempt, but no need to share that quite yet._ Tracing circles on his bare chest with one finger, she realised she hadn't yet had the chance to properly examine a naked Gene Hunt in all his glory. Which was something she planned to remedy very soon.

"By the way, you owe me a shirt, Bols."

"I do?"

"Uh huh. Seein' as yer tore the last one ter shreds."

She smirked. Slight exaggeration, but she was happy to go along with it.

"What can I say? I couldn't wait to get your kit off."

"Understandable."

He sounded unbelievably smug. She sniffed dismissively.

"Well, seeing as you ripped my knickers off, I reckon we're even, don't you?"

His grunt was a mix of amusement and satisfaction.

"Don't recall hearin' any complaints at the time."

"Yes, well, I may have been slightly distracted."

She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the familiar scent that would now forever be associated with incredible sex.

"Gene?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you got any plans for the day? If not, maybe we could go out for brunch. And then spend the afternoon in bed …"

He didn't reply immediately, and she held her breath. Suddenly, it seemed very important that he wasn't intent on rushing off.

"Bit of paperwork, then the pub. Like your plan better, though."

Something approaching joy swelled in her heart.

"Oh, I don't know."

She shifted onto her elbow, gazing down into his ruggedly handsome face. His eyes were closed, familiar pout once more in place.

"I could come with you, catch up with some stuff of my own. And your office does have a nice big sturdy desk, of course."

"Filthy mare."

Her lips curved into an indulgent smile.

"Would you have me any other way?"

She stroked an errant lock of hair back off his forehead, and his eyelids fluttered open. He regarded her from under insanely long lashes, and the predatory gleam in his eyes sent a frisson of arousal skittering down her spine.

"Oh, I intend ter have yer in every possible way, Lady Bols. After I've had another kip, that is."

He closed his eyes again, settling back against the pillow with a sigh, a little smirk tugging at his lips. _Bastard_ , she thought fondly. He knew full well she could never resist a challenge. Reaching beneath the duvet, she wrapped her fingers around his burgeoning erection, gratified to feel it swell in her hand.

"You quite sure about that, Guv?"

He groaned theatrically.

"So bloody demandin'. I swear yer'll be the death of me, woman."

She did eventually allow him to catch up on his sleep. Later. Much later …

.

...

.

Lucky Alex, that's all I can say! *sigh*

Big thanks to those who've stuck with this one – hope you enjoyed, despite the long gaps in posting! If so, please leave me a quick review, they really do make my day.

No idea whether there'll be more fics from me in the future: life is somewhat unpredictable at present, and I've got a novel to try and finish! Never say never, tho. That seems like a sensible motto at present. :)

.


End file.
